


Art Conservation Charms and Other Distractions

by Ireallyenjoyforgetting



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A day in the life of Argus Filch, Gen, Pranks and Practical Jokes, art conservator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29162322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ireallyenjoyforgetting/pseuds/Ireallyenjoyforgetting
Summary: Argus Filch just wants everyone to respect the antiquities of Hogwarts as much as he does.
Relationships: Argus Filch & Mrs Norris
Comments: 20
Kudos: 19
Collections: A Riddikulus Flash Competition





	Art Conservation Charms and Other Distractions

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [RiddikulusComp](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/RiddikulusComp) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> The Passage Behind the Humpbacked, One-Eyed Witch (place)
> 
> ************  
> I read a tumblr headcannon about Filch being a highly skilled art conservator and this is what came forth.

Filch had almost reattached the lifted edge on the portrait. A bit of cleaning and this piece would be finished. There was still that cracked plating on the Knight of Walpurgis armor on the second floor to deal with this week, but he knew he’d need to do rounds today to see what mayhem Peeves had managed to cause since his last inspection. 

Setting aside the acid-free adhesive and his brush, he took a worn cloth and wiped the remnants from his hands. After his rounds, this section should be fully dried and he could work on the spots of soot staining the canvas.

He leaned back on his stool and took a sip of tea, then set it back on the desk he’d asked Dumbledore to charm to prevent spills from reaching his precious workstation. The radio announcer was calling the final scores of a match between Liverpool and Man U, and he scoffed as Man U won. Bloody thieves.

The bluebell flames, encased in glass, strung throughout the alcove dimmed as he touched the one nearest the exit. He’d need to have Flitwick check in on those soon. The light was barely enough to see his work by.

He stepped out of the passage behind the humpbacked, one-eyed witch, and whispered the password to lock it tight. Making his way down to the Great Hall, the bright dawn streamed in through the tall windows.

The hall would soon fill up, and he intended to eat his porridge before the little blighters had all come to disturb his peace. As he entered, he noted how few students filled the tables.

Monday. He’d be catching children late to class later that morning, but he put the thought aside to focus on actually enjoying his meal.

His seat at the end of the head table was already set with porridge and fruits. He smiled to himself as he noted a ripe kumquat in the fruit selection. Flitsy in the kitchens always set aside some of the best fruits for him at his morning meal. It did well to be kind to the house elves. He knew their burden all too well and tried to make their life easier when he could. They, in turn, warned him when there was mischief afoot. And when Peeves was in a particularly destructive mood. 

Filch studied the carving on the sconces around the hall. He’d need to ask the elves to increase the frequency of their cleanings. It was getting a bit difficult for him to ramble up the ladder to inspect them closely as regularly as he should.

The coffee that appeared in front of him was intriguingly fragrant today. He sipped at the brew and his senses alighted with the flavor of dark molasses and spice notes, with a hint of something floral - perhaps orange blossom . Flitsy must have procured some fresh beans from the shipment of potions ingredients they’d just received from Hawaii. There was definitely something tropical to this brew. 

His contented appreciation of the perfect cup of coffee was disturbed by a noise at the end of the Gryffindor table.  _ Those twins _ , no doubt. He’d be more than glad once the Weasely clan finally stopped sending obnoxious children. The eldest seemed a decent enough lad, but he was simply sneakier in his mischief than the rest. The swot was fine, he supposed, seemed a rule-abiding child from the first. The second son, however, had brought one two many fire-breathing, venom-spitting animals near his antiquities to ever be forgiven in his eyes. 

Then  _ those two _ . Barely into their second year and they already seemed determined to go down in Hogwarts’ History as the most destructive, inconsiderate students to ever grace the halls. Argus was still finding remnants of the bloody Mauraders - who named themselves something like that anyway? The castle portraits loved to talk as he cared for them, and they told him tales of the horrors they’d seen those four wreak over the course of their seven years. 

The dung bombs, the  _ explosions _ . Why, even the prefect of the lot had once clawed a large limb off of the Whomping Willow. An  _ heirloom plant _ like that had no business being near thoughtless children out on the grounds no matter  _ what _ the Headmaster needed it to hide. No one respected the sanctitude of this castle and the generations of witches and wizards that had passed through it. No one, except him. And Mrs. Norris of course.

Even from across the hall, he could  _ see _ the mischief in the twins’ eyes. Today would be trying. Best to focus on keeping order. Perhaps he could get some more work done this evening when the children were at dinner.

Argus finished his porridge, drained the last of his coffee, and set a piece of Honeyduke’s chocolate on his clean bread plate for Flitsy to find as thanks when she cleared his place. He climbed the grand staircase to the upper corridors, hoping to get a start on his inventory of projects before classes began and the halls teemed with young witches and wizards.

His stomach dropped suddenly as he reached the third floor. A foul smell hit him and he detected a bit of ichor under the stench of burning wood. He ran toward the smell and came to an abrupt stop as he viewed the destruction of the half-timbering along the corridor. It had not fared well over the years, but he did his best to retain as much of the original woodwork as possible, filling in gaps in the stucco to fortify it against further degradation. 

And in the middle of the blaze ripping apart the wood embellishments added by none other than Lady Jane Grey’s personal architect, sat a crying first year. She clutched her left arm near to her stomach as she huddled, shrinking away from the fire, terrified.

Argus called for Chippy, one of his most reliable assistants, and barked out “Water!”. Chippy’s eyes widened as he took in the scene, and he popped away briefly before returning with an ever-filled bucket of water, which now doused the fire far above their heads. Argus winced at the sizzle of the timbers as the bucket smothered the flames. He knelt near the child and held out his open palm.

The child eyed him warily and cringed away.

“Come now child, I need to see that wound of yours before it gets infected,” he said, gruffly kind. He kept his palm open to the small girl and waited for her to show him the injury.

She finally relented and he  _ tsk’d _ over the burn. It wasn’t pretty. She was lucky she’d managed to rip off her robes before it burned further up her arm or chest. 

“Chippy, go ask Madame Pomfrey to come down to collect this...” He looked to her tie and noted the gold and red, “...little lion. Let her know she’ll need a blanket for the shock.”

“Now, mind telling me what happened?” He raised his thick eyebrows at the girl knowingly. 

“I was just trying a new spell. Some of the boys told me about it and said it was so easy. They told me it would be ever so impressive if I knew it before the professor taught it to us.”

His eyes narrowed, “And which  _ boys _ would these be?”

“I don’t...I don’t want to get them in trouble sir,” she said timidly..

“What they did wasn’t very kind. You could have seriously hurt yourself. Now you know not to listen to everything the older students say, but  _ they _ need to know that it’s not right to try to lead you younger ones astray either. No matter how  _ funny _ they might think they are,” his words came out harsh, but with an undercurrent of genuine concern. 

“I suppose ...it was the Weasley twins. They showed me the book. I should have realized it was from the restricted section when they had to keep the pages chained down so it wouldn’t bite.” Her face scrunched up in a thoughtful expression.

“Yes, well I imagine we learned a great many lessons today,” he said ruefully. Madame Pomfrey chose that moment to pop into the corridor and start fussing over the girl. Argus allowed her to take over and stood back to survey the extent of damage to the once-beautiful architecture. 

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

He’d have to check the stores in the dungeons to see what sixteenth century timber he still had. He doubted it would be enough, as he’d recently had to replace several chair legs in the upper teacher’s lounge after some Carpathian Wood imps had gotten to them over the summer. He might have to replace it with incongruous lumber. He shuddered.

First, he had a lesson to teach. 

The Fat Lady warned him last week when she saw them enter the common room with a fresh box of dung-bombs, and he had asked the tapestry of the First Goblin Triumph, hung in their dormitory, to alert him if any of said dungbombs made their way out of Gryffindor Tower. 

As he stormed down the stairs, he fortuitously ran across the Charms professor. He stopped, drawing Flitwick’s attention with a cough. The small professor’s eyes lit up when they drew up to the hunched Caretaker’s face. 

“How can I help you today, Argus?” he asked warmly.

“I was hoping you might stop by to check on the bluebell flames some time today,” he looked to each side, ensuring their privacy, then bent closer to the professor. “I also have a bit of a lesson to teach to two less than judicious students, if you don’t mind helping me?”

Flitwick’s eyes twinkled with rascality and he nodded. “Of course, Argus. You know I’m always up for a bit of  _ education _ .”

*********************

Fred and George Weasley returned to the dorms that evening thoroughly pleased with themselves. They felt guilty for the girl who’d ended up their pawn, but the burns cleared away quickly enough. They might need to use a slightly less dangerous spell next time, one with less chance of disfigurement.

The look on Filch’s face the entire day as he stomped after them, however, was priceless. He’d trailed them everywhere, and they had been model students. Everything as they’d planned. That would show Filch for berating them for having an innocent game of “catch the fire crab” in the hallway.

Fred rummaged through the drawer where they kept the dungbombs. His hand touched the box, and he snatched it back quickly, hissing and shaking out his hand as a stinging hex lit his fingers on fire.

He looked over to George wryly, “ _ Very Funny, _ Forge.”

“Huh?” George looked up briefly from the muggle publication, MAD Magazine, he’d just received from the Americas that morning. 

“ _ Huh? _ I said Very. Funny,” he deadpanned.

George shrugged, and went back to reading.

Fred walked over to him and shoved the box into his lap. “Here.  _ You _ can carry the dungbombs while we set things up.”

“Who put a flobberworm in your pants?” he asked, eyeing his brother carefully.

Fred just gave him a sideways look and huffed. “Let’s just go.”

********************

Fred and George continued with their mischief that day. But every time from that point on, when they neared a priceless tapestry or portrait, or a section of the corridors covered in precious bass relief, they felt the subtle desire to put up protective charms before setting any pranks that might harm the surroundings. Sometimes, there were no suitable areas at all, and they simply returned to their dorm uncomfortably dissatisfied that they could find no areas of the castle that felt  _ right _ for their prank. 

It was a conundrum.

********************

Elsewhere in the castle that evening, Flitsy received a very large chocolate bar.


End file.
